


You Make Me Blossom

by Writer_Jpg



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Hux teaches Literature because why not, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kylux - Freeform, Lilies and cats don't mix, M/M, Mitaka is mentioned but Phasma actually appear so yay, Poor Millie, Professor Hux, Soulmates, Tumblr Prompt, Vet!Kylo, Veterinary Clinic, WOW meme, my first thing on here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 16:14:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13639785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer_Jpg/pseuds/Writer_Jpg
Summary: Excerpt:‘Soul Mates.’ Hux mused almost bitterly, fingers moving to another petal to grasp. He didn’t try testing this one. He simply held it and felt how soft it was under his touch. Soul Mates was a concept hammered into everyone’s subconscious since they could understand the word. Many cultures revolved around Soul Mates. People would spend years trying to find their Soul Mate, wasting hours a day walking or putting out ads with details of their experience in hopes it might find that one person the universe apparently promised you. Some people just have enough luck to meet their Soul Mate during everyday life; they’d meet when getting coffee, walking their dogs, or even just riding the same bus to downtown the city they both happen to live in. Others, who neither have luck nor the dedication to waste their life hunting down their Soul Mate, just continue on with their life as if never having one.Hux was one of the others.The flower Soul Mate AU nobody talked about :^)





	You Make Me Blossom

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the first Kylux thing I ever decided to publish. I haven't actually posted stuff like this before, so, yeah. I hope to get better. This was based off an AU Soul Mate thing I read on Tumblr like a week ago to made me wake up in a cold sweat and decide it needs to be written. So, yeah, I should have been focusing on studying and doing classwork, except I'm not so have this instead.

Armitage Hux either had the clumsiest Soul Mate in the entire universe, or they were severely self-destructive. The prickling sensation on the back of his forearm woke him up only minutes before his set alarm was supposed to. It was a sensation that, regretfully, he had felt many times. A sensation caught somewhere between the throws of oncoming piercing pain and that of something exiting your body. Almost like a hair being plucked. Slowly. Then it took a dive over the edge and blossomed into a burning, twisting pain that had Hux grasping at his sheets with his hands, gritting his teeth. He knew what this meant. He’s had it happen to him multiple times. Even in his limited stage of awareness from being jerked from a dreamless sleep, he just knew.  
He just knew his Soul Mate was hurt again.

  
The pain didn’t subside immediately, like the smaller flowers or weeds prickling along various parts of his body normally did. It remained. It thrummed for a few seconds longer as a lingering reminded that the new addition was there. Hux didn’t realize he was biting his pillow until his swimming, sleep drugged mind cleared and he felt the surface of it caught between his teeth. He spat it out and reared back, neck cracking at the sudden movement and the fresh bulb on his arm shifting with him. Hux blinked and reached almost blindly with the arm not occupied by a new flower towards the lamp on the nightstand. It took a few swipes and the sounds of something falling off the stand before he managed to locate the lamp and switch it on, briefly blinding him as he kicked and pushed the sheets from his body. After a moment of careful twisting and turning, Hux was up. Not completely up. He was hanging off the edge, elbows on his knees and hair falling over his forehead in a ruined mockery of how he styles it. The pain was still faintly there, pulsing just under his skin. Just under the large, violet and black petals that curved up over the yellow, prickling center of the piece, mocking him. It was larger than most of the flowers he would find on his body when he woke up.

“Damn you.” He cursed, voice filled with venom. He wasn’t sure if he was cursing the flowers, his Soul Mate, or the entirety of the universe for this, but he knew he felt better if he had something to direct his anger onto. So, he chose the flower. He brought his opposite hand up, fingers gently catching one of the petals between his thumb and forefinger, testing just how firmly attached it was. When he found it firm and sticking dutifully, he released it and settled on glaring at it instead. He knew from past experience in his younger years that attempting to pull the petals off before they were ready hurt a lot worse than any flower appearing. He had also heard from dorm mates in college, when the flowers truly first started to bloom in rapid collection, that pulling off a flower that wasn’t ready also hurt your Soul Mate. Some speculated that it even caused whatever had hurt them to scar over and never heal. Then again, there was a lot of speculation involved with Soul Mates to begin with.

  
‘Soul Mates.’ Hux mused almost bitterly, fingers moving to another petal to grasp. He didn’t try testing this one. He simply held it and felt how soft it was under his touch. Soul Mates was a concept hammered into everyone’s subconscious since they could understand the word. Many cultures revolved around Soul Mates. People would spend years trying to find their Soul Mate, wasting hours a day walking or putting out ads with details of their experience in hopes it might find that one person the universe apparently promised you. Some people just have enough luck to meet their Soul Mate during everyday life; they’d meet when getting coffee, walking their dogs, or even just riding the same bus to downtown the city they both happen to live in. Others, who neither have luck nor the dedication to waste their life hunting down their Soul Mate, just continue on with their life as if never having one.  
Hux was one of the others.

  
In a world revolving around Soul Mates with industries built around the concept and thousands of shows documenting it, Hux found little interest for it. Ever since he was starting to peak puberty and his classmates were showing off flowers, thorns, and weeds of various colors and sizes, he had little interest in it. Having Brendol Hux, the strict military veteran and now retired Empire Statistician, as your father also didn’t promote the idea. Brendol was vocal on his ideas of Soul Mates; he didn’t trust it. Hux remembered how his father would curse the flowers that even dared to appear on his body, ignoring how Hux’s step-mother would frown and touch the exact place on her body where an injury of some kind should be. He remembers learning early on that they were not Soul Mates. His mother hadn’t been his father’s Soul Mate either. At least, that’s what he was told when he was old enough to realize he came from a ‘lapse in judgement’ between his father and a desperate woman in need of money.

  
‘Annoying.’ Hux found himself almost instinctively thinking as he pulled his thoughts away from his father and to the time. It was roughly a minute before his alarm would go off. Hux knew he wouldn’t g et any extra hours of sleep this morning. He sighed and reached over to flick the alarm clock off before it could have a chance to startle him and rose, feeling his back crack as he arched and stretched. His bedroom, although barren and minimal in both colors and decoration, was spacious and gave him comfort. His bed was large enough for him to thrash around in when he couldn’t sleep while a smaller, rounder copy of a bed was settled at the base of his. It was empty, something that made Hux narrow his eyes in suspicion and look to the door that was open more than it had been the previous night. Bare feet padded across the cold floor and Hux was entering the hall and heading directly for the kitchen where the smell of freshly brewing coffee was starting up from the pre-set coffee pot. His kitchen matched the rest of his condo; minimal, soft colors, and very spacious. Even with the island in the center with chairs surrounding it, there was enough space to fit a gracious amount of people in it.

  
There was also a bright orange and fluffy feline on the island, face pressing close to bright Lilies.

  
“Milli.” Hux immediately chided, jumping in time to catch the feline before she scampered away. Millicent let out a shocked chirrup noise at having been caught before Hux’s hands caught her. She wiggled and squirmed until she was re-directed to Hux’s bare chest. Almost immediately, her interest shifted from her owner to the flower on his arm, a paw already curving to swipe at it. Hux let out a small noise of both amusement and annoyance before holding her with only one arm, keeping her at a safe distance from the flower. “Stop it. You know better.” He set his cat on the ground and nudged her on with a pat to the back of her legs. She let out a loud mreow before scampering off, tail raised high as she found one of the corners to settle herself in, watching as Hux started to fish out a mug for his first cup of coffee. He placed it beside the pot and, after feeling the sticky remains of sweat and oil mucking his hair, decided to bypass for the bathroom first. He had roughly an hour and a half before he was expected in his office on the First Order University campus. He had another two hours before his first Poetry Workshop Literature class at 9:15. An hour after that in his office. Another class at 12:25. Two hours. A short meeting today with a student over her grades severely dropping. Then he had his chance for lunch. If all goes well and according to schedule, which is normally does, then Hux should be home no later than 6:00 in the evening, giving him plenty of time to settle with a cup of his prized bottle of bourbon with Millicent on his lap and papers to grade at his side. That was the plan, but not everyone in Hux’s life decides to follow that plan.

  
Such as his Soul Mate’s surprise of the morning.

  
Hux took a brisk, boiling shower that lasted half the time it normally should. Pale, freckled skin blotted with angry red spots from the hastily set water that burned just on the edge of uncomfortable. His hair dripped until he fished out a towel to rub it down with, quickly approaching the fogged-up mirror. With a swipe of his hand, Hux could see himself. Lanky. Pale. Freckled.  
And covered in wilting flowers of various kinds and colors.

  
He dropped the towel to the sink, strands of hair reaching up to defy gravity as he bent forward to admire— inspect the differently bundles of fallen petals and wilting stems. They were everywhere over him. Some pooled specifically around his ankles. Tiny, twisted, browning Dandelions that Hux remembers sticking over the tops of his socks and into his pants drooped. The water from the shower had done them little good, pushing them further to drag behind his hell. They should fall off anytime, now. If he was lucky enough, they’d be faded enough for him to pluck them off. Like a scab his Soul Mate was most definitely suffering from in the moment. Sadly, not all of them were as wilted as the Dandelions. Aubrietas of purple and white were gathered around his left thigh. The stems were strong enough to press the petals insistently against his hip, as if demanding attention. They had been the freshest flowers on his body before his new addition. He didn’t realize he was touching them with a fond—careful touch until he felt droplets of still warm water fall off the defiant petals and catch on his knee, slithering down to dampen the floor. Hux didn’t pull away. He just frowned. He frowned for a long time at the flowers before shifting to an almost hateful glare when he looked back to the newest flower. Already, Hux knew he wouldn’t be wearing his normal long-sleeved dress shirts nor his favorite suit jacket with that pest on his arm. No, he’d have to dig beyond his usual attire to the dress shirts with sewn back sleeves and enough room to fit two of him. Shirts he bought specifically for occurrences like this. He even had matching pants that were twice his normal size. If neither of those options helped and he proved desperate enough, Hux wasn’t above using some fake illness to keep himself at home long enough for the flower to wilt to a manageable size.

  
It took Hux his usual time of roughly fifteen minutes to dry, comb, and gel his hair down. It took roughly three minutes to find the shirt that was dark enough to hide the violet petals and matching pants. Then it took seven minutes to dress, three longer than normal. The petals of the flower bent and caught until he worked it through the sleeve without much tugging or incident, making Hux release a breath he never knew he had been holding. Then, with only a handful of minutes left before he’d be officially behind schedule, Hux carved a path to his kitchen. Once more did he have to chase Millicent off the table from pawing at the Lilies there. She was utterly fascinated by them. She had been since Dopheld Mitaka, one of his co-workers, had gifted Hux the flowers as a late birthday gift. They had sat on his desk for the first two days of being under his care. Then they took a fall onto the office floor from being bumped by a student in a meeting with Hux and he decided they’d be safer in his home.

  
Apparently, he was wrong.

  
“I’ve told you plenty of times, leave them be.” Hux warned, once more setting Millicent on the floor. “I’ve bought you plenty of toys. I do not see why you can’t throw them around instead of chewing on petals.” Hux said, sparing a glance to the Lilies to check for any signs of permanent, possibly fatal, damage. Nothing except a little leaning from Millicent pressing her weight against them. They’d survive. Millicent didn’t respond to her owner, instead skulking away to find something else to start messing with. There was no doubt in Hux’s mind that, once he left, she’d go right back to chewing on the flowers. In hopes of saving the flower, Hux moved it to higher ground; the top of the fridge. If Millicent managed to get to it before he returned, there’s no way it would be surviving the plummet. A risk Hux was willing to take as he started preparing a cup of coffee to go. He didn’t have time to use the mug he had pulled out, instead moving for the sleek cup he always carried to work.  
Reaching out made the flower bounce and Hux hesitated, staring down at it.

  
Why did he have to get one of the clumsiest Soul Mates around? Was being clumsy even the cause? Maybe he was destined to be with someone so hell bent on destroying their own body they didn’t take a moment to think about how it was affecting Hux. Something in his chest tightened and he couldn’t tell exactly what thought caused it. The thought of a Soul Mate that was hurting themselves or someone who didn’t care if they hurt him. He shouldn’t have been affected by the thought. It shouldn’t make his chest ache in a way only a Soul Mate could do. His grip on the cup tightened until his knuckles turned white and he felt them pop from the pressure. Sometimes, in moments like this, when the feelings were starting to crack through the wall of indifference he’s spent years building, Hux thought his father might have had a point.  
Soul Mates were nothing but trouble.

 

 

Had Phasma not been the one to enter his office without knocking, Hux would have found himself caught in an act he would never admit to doing. Something he would cover up with saying he was checking emails or checking over his schedule (like he didn’t already have it memorized by heart). A blatant lie that nobody would dare to call him out on. Except Phasma, who stood in front of his desk with her arms crossed over the firm fitting floral shirt she only wore when her own flowers weren’t as present. A risky move, Hux would say, since the shirt would definitely leave no room if one happened to spring up on her during a class. His blonde companion didn’t announce her presence when she walked in nor when she perched herself before him, looking between his focused gaze and the computer before him. Hux could only handle the silence for so long before he sighed and looked up to her.

“Are you just going to watch me or speak to me?”

“Looking it up?” She avoided Hux’s snide question, already leaning to get a better look at the flower on his arm. Purposely, Hux twisted his arm in hopes of angling the flower more out of view. His first class had brought on both a simultaneous headache and urge. Only having a single serving of coffee didn’t help either, prompting him to be snappier than he normally would be. He knew his students had known his mood wasn’t the best either. They hardly asked questions and didn’t hesitate to answer when prompted. He would have been proud had his arm not shot a wave of pain through him when the flower got knocked against the podium he leaned on, making him nearly shout. Willpower and pure anger had kept him silent until the pain dropped to a thumping pulse. A pulse that would keep the flower on his mind through the rest of the class. A pulse that would end up urging him onto the pre-saved website he has visited way too much in his lifetime with a list of every flower documented to appear on someone’s body with common flowers at top and rarest at the bottom. Phasma bent even more and Hux, with obvious disdain, turned the screen so she couldn’t read the website and mock him further. Her smirk definitely said Hux had failed.

  
“Don’t you have a class to teach?” Hux asked, voice flat as he spared a glance to the clock. Ten minutes before Phasma’s second class.  
“It’s down the hall and you know it.” She said, reaching just out of Hux’s view to retrieve something from a plastic bag she had carried in with her. “And we both know without me you would miss breakfast every morning.” As she spoke, she dropped a smaller, paper bag that was rolled up onto Hux’s desk. She was careful to keep it off of important papers but not careful enough to avoid the keyboard, which caused Hux to jump a full page down. He glowered up at her. 

“A bagel?” He guessed, reaching out to unwind the bag.

  
“Two.” Phasma smiled a little softer than when she had been teasing him. “In case you run late on lunch, again.” Hux looked over one of the bagels and pinched a piece off of one, popping it into his mouth to chew on. Still warm and fresh enough that Hux knew she had got them from the café on campus.

  
“Remind me and I’ll buy you dinner for this sometime.” Hux pinched off another bite and Phasma watched him.

  
“You should save that time for your Soul Mate, since they’re obviously trying to get your attention.” Those words made the bagel turn sour enough to make Hux scrunch up his face and glare.

  
“For the trouble they’ve caused me, I should punch them.” If I ever meet them. Hux held back. The un-said words made another ache appear deep in his chest. It was an ache that would come whenever he had those unwanted thoughts of never meeting his Soul Mate. Despite having a realistic view on his own situation, Hux still had that small, instinctual want to find his Soul Mate. The ache made the two bites of bagel in his stomach swirl and urged him to push the rest to the side to be dealt with later. Phasma simply watched him before speaking.

  
“You’ll find them.” She promised, though by this point Hux could tell even she was unsure of it. “Just try to not kill them when you two finally meet.” She offered. Hux exhaled through his nose and decided on switching to his email, needing something to take his mind off of his Soul Mate long enough for the ache to dull.

  
“I honestly have very little care if I ever meet them if they continue to plant the largest flowers known to man on me.” Hux bitterly spit. The flower on his arm wobbled, as if responding, and Hux had to resist the urge of forcibly tearing it out. Phasma gathered what was most likely her bagged bagels and turned, just making it to the door before she paused and turned partially back to see him.  
“You don’t care?” She asked and Hux grunted in response, hoping she’d leave faster if he ignored her. It didn’t work. “What kind is it?” She asked almost innocently. Too innocent. Hux didn’t think before he opened his mouth.

  
“A Poppy.” He regretted answering when Phasma had to bring up a free hand to her mouth to stifle the mocking laugh already forming. Hux’s ears went red before his face did and he waited until his door shut before slamming a closed fist onto the desk, narrowly missing the bagel there.

 

It was definitely later than Hux had wanted it to be when he started home. The gel of his hair had been worked out by how many times Hux had ran his fingers through it. Strands were sticking up in off curves, but it was still manageable enough to keep up the image Hux was stubborn about keeping. Since getting in his car, Hux had undone a few of the buttons of his shirt, allowing the collar to loosen enough for the sweat that had gathered there from the humid night to not further soak him. Driving home at this hour meant the freeways would be crowded with endless lines of traffic and bright lights, both of which are bad for the headache Hux was nursing. With one arm on the wheel, Hux brought his hand to his forehead to rub at his temples, hoping to ease some of the pressure off. It wasn’t helping as much as bourbon at home waiting for him would. He licked his dry lips at the thought, daring a glance at the clock before looking back to the sea of brake lights before him. 9:34. Definitely later than he wanted. He had hoped that, having been this late, he would have missed the worst of the evening traffic. His hopeful prediction had been wrong and so he sat there, the radio shut off in hopes of saving his head from further torture, left in a silence occasionally broken by a distant horn or rumble of an engine. Somewhere distantly, a car shook from the force of the bass of some song Hux couldn’t even hear the words to, just the rumble of the bass that made his windows vibrate. Hux was starting to regret agreeing to have stood in for a co-worker who had to leave campus at last minute. It was an introductory Literature class that was required by every student on that campus to have, meaning there were students in there who would have rather been anywhere but in Hux’s presence. Those students, who messed on their phones more often than taking notes, served to only raise Hux’s blood pressure and planted the seeds of his headache. The class dragged on until Hux was left with paperwork and emails piled up in his office, keeping him on campus until the night janitors were showing up to empty the bin he kept in there. All he wanted to do at this point was make it home and into his bed before he decided to close his eyes. It wouldn’t do him any good to fall asleep waiting in traffic. Though the longer he waited and the slower the cars moved, he couldn’t help as his eyes dipped.

  
‘Just a moment to rest.’ An irrational voice in his head offered. Hux blinked. ‘Just for a moment.’ His body betrayed the alarms already going off and allowed his eyes to drop closed. The muscles in his leg tightened, making him press harder on the brake than he probably should have. There was a moment of silence and Hux was sure he was going to fall asleep before he could convince his eyelids to raise up.

  
It was ruined when he felt a sudden pressure in his lower back.

  
It wasn’t like the pressure of his headache. It was different. Hux almost thought he was imagining it at first. Maybe he had just shifted wrong and caused some pulled muscle to flair up. Maybe his shirt had bunched up and was digging into his back just the wrong way. He tried to find something to explain it and brush it off so he could return back to his light freeway napping when he felt the pressure increase. He straightened up in his seat, hearing parts of his back pop at the action as the pressure seemed to shift with it. Shifting his hips, he tried to find some position that didn’t make him feel like someone was jabbing a thumb into his spine. Then he felt the pressure briefly fade, as if deciding to actually leave him alone.

  
Then it returned and Hux swore he saw stars at the pain that came with the pressure.  
“Fuck!” He hissed, teeth bared in a form of a grimace that formed into a snarl once realization dawned on him. Another fucking flower. Perfect. The thing he needed to top off his night. He could tell where the flower was going to come out of. The pressure had increased, turning more into a raising bump that quickly flared from uncomfortable into painful. He could feel his skin being stretched. Being moved. Torn through. Tendrils of the stem already trying to find a weak enough spot to force the large, swollen bulb that he could feel forming out. Another press of the stem and Hux couldn’t stop the gasping whine that came out. He arched more out of his seat in hopes of relieving the pressure, but all it did was tighten the muscle and flesh back there making an obstacle for the flower trying to escape. Almost as if the flower could tell, the efforts to escape were doubled and Hux felt like his lower back was on fire. He knew he couldn’t sit in traffic like this. His leg was already starting to shake. When the flower would finally breach, Hux had no doubt he wouldn’t be able to hold the brake. There was even a small possibility he could hit the gas by accident. It wouldn’t be his first time causing some sort of accident due to the flowers. He’s broken plenty of coffee mugs this way. He even broke his last phone by simply dropping it down the steps located by his office. With a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, Hux managed to turn on his flashers just before jerking away from his lane, shooting towards an empty shoulder. His tires squealed and he barely had enough time to throw the car in park before he found himself screaming. The flower had breached. He could name the exact moment his skin parted and whatever new addition burst from inside him. A mixture of blinding pain and sudden relief left his head spinning as the pressure reached a climax, popping almost like a pimple. There was a moment when he felt all his nerves catch aflame, trying to process this new flower that would definitely have roots attaching somewhere into his own nervous system, roots implanting themselves where they always did. It felt to Hux as if his entire body was being re-wired in that brief blazing moment. Then it was over and he was left with his shirt too tight against his back causing the petals of the new flower to rub his tender, raw skin. With his teeth grinding and everywhere pulsing, Hux collapsed onto his steering wheel and shook. He shook and he couldn’t tell if it was from the utter fury he felt towards his Soul Mate for undoubtedly doing something stupid enough to get hurt so bad it did this to Hux, or if it was the mounting stress that had finally peaked in his body from the entire day. Flowers and meetings and students complaining and the dean asking for Hux’s opinion and a strike in the liberal departments money flow and—

  
Blood. Hux blinked through the tears he would deny and felt a warm, soft trail cut down along his spine to pool just over his belt, soaking the once clean pants. Hux shifted when he felt it start to slip into his pants and grimaced. Then he snarled. Then he screamed again and brought both hands down on the dash. He cursed the universe in that moment and, with as little movement as possible, once more put his car in gear and started to fight his way back into the lines of traffic. The blood had long since dried when he made it home. It chipped and crusted his skin and clothing when he moved. The flower, of whatever kind, was kept flesh against him. Uncomfortably pressing at the raw edges. There was a moment of debate when he finally reached the building with his condo of fishing through the back of his car for his bag filled with papers that needed grading. The debate ended when he decided he wasn’t going to get any grading done tonight and he just desperately wanted something to drink. Specifically, something alcoholic that he hoped would nurse away all his pain and fury. It wouldn’t. He knew it would just set up water in the kettle to let his attitude boil through the night. Nobody in the building was in his path when he parted through the doors. In honesty, he wouldn’t have stood in the path of someone in his current state either. Red-faced, teary eyed, shirt un-buttoned, and dried blood staining the backs of his clothes. He didn’t bother to look and see if anyone could see him as he cut a path to his condo, forgoing the stairs for the elevator only because he knew if he stepped wrong the flower would send a wave of pain through his legs and he wouldn’t be able to keep himself up. Hell, in the elevator he could still barely keep himself up. Constantly uncomfortable, Hux shifted his weight around. He gripped the bars in the elevator and caught his own reflection in shining walls. His hair was sticking up in weird angles. It made him cringe and, despite everything, he tried to push it down. Tried. It defied him and Hux gave up when the elevator started to move. The door was upon him before he even realized he had his key in hand, forcing himself into his home with a new determination. A determination to drink away his problems. At least for the night. He’d wake up the next day for classes with most likely a hangover and extra layers of regret, but his anger towards the universe and his Soul Mate would simmer down by then and he wouldn’t be a ball of raging fire ready to burn anything near him. His condo was dark with only a few stray lights keeping it bright enough to see his path to the bathroom. Millicent had moved nearby. A sluggish meow called out from the other end of the kitchen, where it was too dark to see her. Hux expected her to follow him like she always did. She didn’t and he didn’t wait on her. He was tearing open his shirt the moment he had shut his front door, a few buttons being tugged loose in his haste. Care was taken to not force off the Poppy on his arm in his furious stripping. That doesn’t mean he didn’t debate it. There was a moment where he thought of just forcing it out. Tearing the roots from his skin and shredding the petals until there was nothing. He thought of hurting his Soul Mate just to get the message across that he couldn’t handle any more of this. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed down that urge to quell the persistent ache in his chest as he pushed the sleeve over the Poppy and dropped the shirt, staring at the spot of blood on it. Then he twisted and looked at himself in the mirror. Hux felt a flush blotch his cheeks when he spotted the flower. It was offensively bright and pink with layers of petals surrounding the stringy center. It was large. Bigger than his own palm, maybe even his whole hand, with the petals touching parts of his left hip. He shifted so the petals bounced and he could see the angry, raw skin surrounding the base of the flower. Then there was the dried blood that marked paths down his flesh and he felt his anger renew itself. One part due to the appearance, one part to the damage it’s caused, and one part because he already knew what kind of flower it was.

  
“A Water Lily!” He yelled, looking over the flower again just to confirm his suspicions. It matched the photos he’s seen before, on the website he visited way too often. He just couldn’t believe it. If he recalled, Water Lilies were further down on the list, in the rarer side of the division. They didn’t appear that often because it would take a pretty bad injury to cause them to appear. Stitches. Puncture wounds. He’s even read that, in some cultures, Water Lilies were seen as an approaching sign that their Soul Mate was a warrior. In other cultures, it was a sign that their Soul Mate was close to death—a thought that made Hux’s body burn. Yet, nothing but the resounding pulse of his still too stretched skin followed. A sign his Soul Mate, while hurt pretty decently, was still alive. Had they actually faced fatal damage, Hux would have felt it.

  
Everyone can feel when their Soul Mate dies because a part of them dies too.

  
The part that spits out those eccentric and bright flowers would wilt away. He would feel empty. He would become like those old, widowed women he remembers seeing in the park on Sundays during his lunch break, sitting on a bench and just staring. He never knew what they were staring at. He just knew they stared and came back every day. Or they never left. So, Hux knew his Soul Mate was alive, quelling whatever anxiety had built at the stray thought instantly. This left him with only anger and a dull pain. Something he knew he could handle. With his chest still bare and exposed to the draft that traveled through his home, Hux cut a brisk path towards the kitchen. He fought with his shoes before managing to kick them off just before entering the kitchen. A moment was dedicated to making sure they were tucked safely out of the way just beside the kitchen’s door. Millicent wasn’t in the kitchen but evidence she had been there was. The Lilies had fallen like Hux had expected. The plastic cup he was temporarily using until he could find a vase hadn’t been damaged at all. It was survived with little more than a scratch and had rolled (or been pawed) next to the island. The Lilies weren’t as lucky. A few of their petals had been torn off with the stems bent in awkward ways that he knew they wouldn’t recover from.

  
Something in Hux snapped.

  
He wasn’t sure what actually set him off. Millicent ruining the flowers that had been one of a handful of birthday gifts. His work. The flowers. His headache. The fact his Soul Mate was so fucking clumsy or self-destructive that Hux couldn’t go a single day without experiencing pain. He knows it had been boiling, but the actually moment the kettle tipped over was a mystery. He just knows that, in that moment, the plastic cup and the Lilies didn’t stand a chance under his wrath. The cup did break when Hux sent it flying with the hardest kick he could manage. What was left of the Lilies were torn to shreds under a mixture of his feet stomping and his hands furiously tearing. He scattered them with a scream and then was convinced he broke the cabinet door when he tore it open, searching for the bottle he kept tucked away for sour evenings. Blind to his own built up fury, Hux knocked cups over trying to find a glass to go with the drink, his teeth clacking and face turning a harsh shade of red.  
“Fuck you.” He said suddenly. Defiantly. As if he was speaking directly to his Soul Mate, almost uncaring if they were hurt or not in that moment. “Fuck you for getting hurt.” He opened the bottle filled the glass to the rim, drops spilling over to settle on the marble counter. He dropped the bottle with more force than necessary and bent to drink a gulp from the glass. The burn. The ache. The feel of the liquid rushing down and spreading through his body all in one brief moment. It was almost too much and Hux wanted to break more than just the cup in that moment. Then he took another sip and the anger was starting to drown in alcohol. “Fuck you for ruining my wardrobe. Fuck you for the bright colored flowers. Honestly, pink? Why pink? Why?!” He turned as if he would stare at the offensive flower. He gave up after a moment when his head started to swim from turning and instead settled for leaning against the counter, both hands cupping his drink close to his mouth.  
Then he just felt sad and lonely and not as furious as he had been mere minutes ago.

  
Lonely. A feeling that came to him often when he thought of his Soul Mate. Sad and lonely and so sorry it hurt. He brushed his hand over his warm cheek and sighed into it. He was still angry. His anger wouldn’t be settled so quickly. It would continue to follow him for the rest of the week. It would follow him for the next few weeks until he found himself in another moment such as this where just one moment sets him off. But he was more sad than angry now. Sad because his Soul Mate was hurting (like always) and here he was being no help. No comfort. Was his Soul Mate angry for him not being there? Were they expecting him to sweep in and rescue them from some situation?

  
Hux swallowed the drink and felt himself choke briefly, sluggishly reaching for the bottle to refill his cup.  
He just wanted to see his Soul Mate. He just wanted to meet them. Just once. Even if they didn’t want anything to do with him, he just wanted the insistent ache that popped up when he thought of them to go away. He wanted to tell them to be safer so he stops turning into a living bouquet. He just wanted to know who they were.

  
Then, five cups and an empty bottle later, all Hux wanted was bed. Unable to lay on his back, the swaying Hux just fell forward onto the sheets. They were soft and cool and fresh against his face. They welcomed him into what he expected to be a dreamless sleep.

 

“Milli?” Hux’s voice sounded weak. A side effect of his dry throat, the peaking hangover, and the fact he swallowed an entire bottle of alcohol on a mostly empty stomach. His head swam when he lurched forward. Spots of light danced across the dark room and, for a moment, Hux forgot the entire reason he had woke up. His thoughts, which was branching back to what he had done only hours before, were suddenly brought to a stunning halt by a gut-wrenching smell. Despite being empty and already weak, his stomach rolled. He gagged and had to resist trying to take a deep breath or else he would vomit all over his sheets. With watery eyes, Hux stood on shaky knees and whirled, trying to find the source of the smell. The bedroom was dark with only a slimmer of light coming from a closed window and cracked door, prompting Hux to stumble along the edge of the bed towards his nightstand. He had to pat furiously along the lamp before finding the switch. Suddenly having the room light up disoriented him enough that he nearly fell onto his bed again, but he was stopped by the loud, crude sounds of gagging just on the other side of the room. Immediately, Hux whirled and tried to peer over the bed, mind zeroing in on the only thing it could be. “Milli? Milli, girl, what’s wrong?” He frantically asked, trying to fight through the burning in his throat. It took only a few steps to circle the bed and it was once on the other side he found both the source of the smell and gagging.

  
Millicent was crouching, drool and excess liquids connecting her mouth to the pool of vomit she had just spat up on Hux’s floor. There wasn’t much. Just enough to make Hux’s heartbeat spiral then restart with an astonishing pace. It wasn’t the vomit that caused the smell. Hux figured that out when he dropped painfully to one knee to scoop up his animal. She was soaked with a foul-smelling liquid that immediately took to his skin and loose pants below. Up close, Hux could quickly figure out what the liquid actually was. Piss. Cat piss, to be exact. A lot of it. He wasn’t sure where all Millicent had pissed at to cause the entire room to be bathed in the smell, but Hux knew it was more piss than his cat should normally be putting out. Especially in his room. She hasn’t done something like that since she was a kitchen still figuring out the litterbox. There was something wrong with his cat and Hux was quickly spiraling back into a state of panic. Millicent still heaved and shook in his arm when he stood, her claws digging into his arm with just enough force to pierce the skin. He released a soft hiss but was busy throwing himself to the other side of the bed where his phone was at. He didn’t think in that moment. He just found the first number in the call records and dialed it, hoping for someone who was in a better state of mind to answer. He knew he was still buzzed. He was slow to move and wobbled when he turned too sharply.

  
“You better have a good reason for calling at three in the fucking morning.” Phasma’s voice, although husky and annoyed, brought immediate relief over Hux.

  
“I do.” He started with a voice still too small. “Phasma, fuck, it’s Millicent. I…I don’t know what’s wrong. She’s…She’s just vomiting. Pissing. It’s everywhere.” He spoke as he turned, taking in the state of the room. There was more piss than vomit. The room would smell for days. He heard the sounds of shuffling through the phone though he never looked away from Millicent who continued to shake and gag in his arms. More warm liquid met his arm and Hux was met with a fresh wave of the disgusting smell making him cough.

  
“Okay. Okay.” Phasma repeated. Hux heard more movement. “How long has she been like that?”

  
“I don’t know I just woke up and—Phasma will she be okay?”

  
“You just have to get her to the vet, Hux.” Hux swallowed nervously.

  
“That’s why I’m calling.” Phasma waited for him to continue, which took several seconds too long. “I’m drunk. At least, somewhat still. I can’t drive. Not like this. I’ll kill us. I’ll do anything in return, I just need someone to—”

  
“I’ll be there soon.” She cut him off, voice firm. Hux winced. “Just be ready for me, okay? I’ll call as soon as I’m parking and we’re going.”

  
From experience, Hux knew that Phasma’s apartment was at least a fifteen-minute drive away. If traffic was bad, it could be forty-minutes or more. Roughly five minutes have passed since the phone call in which Hux had forced on the largest, loosest jacket he owned when his phone chimed at him. He had been in the middle of curling a towel around Millicent to hold her with in hopes of NOT covering Phasma’s car in cat piss when the sound scared him. Millicent let out a low, weak noise when Hux moved to grab it.

  
“Phasma?”

  
“I’m here.” She sounded roughly out of breath, as though she had been running. “Is your door unlocked?” Before Hux could answer, he heard the knob of his door turn and the familiar face of Phasma greeted him. She was dressed casually with a shirt and pants hanging on her. Her hair was tamer than Hux’s, which was still curling in odd ways that was aided by a mixture of sweat and remnants of hair product, and she looked as though she had more sleep than him, or she at least had more peaceful sleep. She was breathing hard when she entered. Then she caught sight of Millicent and nearly choked on a mixture of the smell and the sight.

  
“You’re here.” He said dumbly having not been expecting her there for at least another ten minutes. Phasma was upon him and Millicent in seconds, peering over the pitiful animal.  
“I told you I’d be here soon.” She reached over to try and examine Millicent’s face better and was rewarded with a low, threatening growl. Phasma quickly pulled her hand back. “She still has her attitude.” Phasma dryly said. “But she’s sick. Bad. Hurry up, we’ll take the elevator since you’re still drunk.” Hux avoided her glare. He knew she was going to be upset with him for drinking on a work night. More so for drinking enough to still be staggering hours later. He also knew that she wouldn’t bring it up until Millicent was taken care of, having known how fond Hux is of her. That’s why she didn’t waist time waiting on Hux herself. She snatched his keys and his wallet for him, saving him am embarrassingly slow trip through his house trying to find them. She shot him an unimpressed look when she spotted the bottle form earlier but remained silent. Her hand was soft against his arm; the one without the flower. The grip kept him grounded as they made it into the elevator and descended. It did nothing to keep his thoughts under control. Panic was still pulsing through him and it wasn’t over a flower or a missed meeting. It was over his cat. The only pet he’s ever raised from near infancy. The only pet he’s ever put so much time into. The only pet he’s ever had. It would be seven years this Christmas he’s had her. He didn’t plan on losing her before he could even celebrate that. That’s why he felt like he was going to cry whenever he glances down to see her. Vomiting. Pissing. Shaking. Making these soft, terrified noises that all he wanted to do was chase away with petting and promises. He was so scared because he had no idea what to do. She had never been sick before this. Never. No vomiting. No diarrhea. No anything that could have shown foul health.  
“Where are we going?” Hux finally asked when they were in Phasma’s car and his thoughts started to wonder to territory he didn’t want to visit. Not while Millicent was still alive and fighting in his arms. They were driving at a speed Hux would have cursed her for going had this not been an emergency.

  
“There’s this vet clinic not far from here. I’ve been there before.” She stopped when she cut a turn. Hux clung to Millicent tighter. “They’re really good and open all night.” Hux didn’t ask another question. He couldn’t think of any that he knew Phasma would be capable of answering. They were at the clinic in record time. Millicent had only vomited once the entire ride, most of which had ended up on Hux himself. Very little actually touched Phasma’s car. She didn’t seem to care even if it had. No, she was more focused on pulling as close to the vet as she could before she was throwing the car in park and turning it off with more force than necessary. Hux fought with the seat belt he forgot he had put on before he tore out of the car. The clinic Phasma had brought them to was decently sized, bright, and open, like she had promised. Hux pushed open the doors with his shoulder and found himself in an empty waiting room with generic music playing and photos of bright, happy, and healthy animals everywhere. The woman behind the window, who had been previously messing on the computer back there, was not prepared for Hux to come running in. She had been bored before those doors were thrown open. Hair falling out of the pulled back ponytail it had been pulled into and sleep threatening to catch her. She didn’t look sleepy nor bored when she spotted Hux. Whatever she was going to say, or ask, was either silenced by Hux’s face words of ‘please help’ or the state of Millicent. Hux didn’t know which one and didn’t care. All he cared about what that the woman cut a path quickly out of the office and into the waiting room.

  
“What happened?” She questioned. She was already reaching out to examine Millicent when the cat in question gagged and hacked spit onto the woman’s out-stretched hand, making her wince.  
“I don’t know, I woke up and she was just. This. Doing this, please he—”

  
“What’s going on up there, Rey?” A voice from further in the office called. A voice that, had Hux been more clear-headed and not so focused on his cat, would have made Hux pause. It was deep. Impressively so, with an uneven edge to it that had it caught between sounding annoyed and amused. The woman, who Hux now knew was named Rey, turned and leaned through the window Hux had first seen her through.

  
“Get out here, we got something!” She called. She left no room for disagreement and whoever had first spoken came running, pushing out a door that Hux was sure lead to some examination rooms. Hux raised his eyes to the new figure and, for a brief moment, felt his heart stop.

  
The man was tall. Tall and huge with shoulders that stretched out forever and a mop of lazily tended to black hair. He was pale. Not as pale as Hux, but he seemed to come close. His face was dotted with soft moles, large ears, and an awkwardly large nose that was almost over-shadowed by his thick lips. Hux felt his body flush when the brown eyes of the man caught his gaze before they dropped to the cat. He was before Hux and Millicent in mere seconds, reaching for the rolled up, growling, and gagging ball of fur, spit, and urine. Hux was pulled back to the moment by his cat being taken, his eyes widening in alarm.

  
“Shit, what the hell happened?” The new man asked, eyeing Hux with a look he couldn’t place. Mistrust? Blame? Unease? Worry? Was this man blaming Hux for Millicent’s state? A brief flare of annoyance tried to rise, but Hux’s panic extinguished it in seconds, causing him to swallow whatever pride he still had in that moment.

  
“He doesn’t know.” Rey said, seeming to know what look Hux was being placed with. “We’re going back, come on, we need to ask questions to know what’s happening.” Rey brought a hand to Hux’s shoulder and he chased after the man with his cat. Phasma followed them all and they found themselves in a small, slightly cramped room with a table in the middle, cabinets along the edge, and multiple chairs. Millicent was settled onto the table and the towel unwrapped from around her. The smell of piss filled the room and Hux felt his stomach start to roll again. Rey stationed both Hux and Phasma as out of the way as the room allowed before rushing over to meet her partner halfway, both reaching for gloves from a nearby box. They were in the middle of pulling them on when the man turned, fixing both Hux and Phasma with a look.

  
“What’s her name?”

  
“Millicent.” Hux said. He swallowed deeply in an attempt to calm his voice. “I’m her owner. She’s only a few years old. She’s never been—”

  
“Have you changed her food to something different recently?” The man cut Hux off as Rey was grabbing stuff from nearby drawers. A thermometer was all Hux could recognize amongst them.

  
“No.” He looked to Phasma as if she could know if somehow Millicent’s food has been switched. Phasma shrugged.

  
“Have she ingested anything recently that you’d think is suspicious? Non-edibles especially.” Rey asked. Hux didn’t have to spend much time pondering it.

  
“Some flowers. I’ve been trying to keep her out of them but she’s…. you know.” He finished weakly, suddenly feeling nervous. “Could flowers have really done this?”

  
“What kind?” Rey looked up at Hux and he was momentarily distracted from the man, who was maneuvering Millicent’s body to listen to her heart.

  
“Lilies.” That word caused a brief chain reaction. The man, who had been as tenderly holding onto Millicent’s front legs with his large hand, jerked his head up with a sudden gleam in his eyes. He shouted ‘Lilies!’, which was enough to startle the already shaky Millicent, who lunged up and swiped fiercely across the man’s hand. The man cried out, slightly shocked as blood quickly rose to the surface.

  
Then Hux cried out.

  
Eyes turned from the injured man to Hux, who was grasping the wrist of his hand with shaking fingers as his skin shifted with tiny, prickly stems poking through. The small flowers never hurt as much as the others. They felt like tiny pricks from a needle that faded within seconds. No aftershocks that would leave him unable to move his fingers for hours. No, it was short and fast with the bright, shockingly yellow flowers quickly rising out to greet the world. Hux hissed lowly through his teeth and blinked. Then he blinked again. Then he dared to look up and found heat immediately turning his face and neck red. The man, who had released Millicent for Rey to sooth and hold, was standing rigid. His injured hand was left hanging in the air while his other hand held the wrist. A copy of what Hux had been doing. Phasma was silenced. Stunned. For all the teasing she had paid Hux, she had never expected to bare witness to this moment. She looked almost as unsure as the two men who were now staring and blushing at each other.

  
‘Why?’ Was the first thought in Hux’s mind and he almost wanted to scream. Or cry. Or both. Then Millicent let out a meow and Rey was moving before the man was.

  
“I’m taking her to the operation room, Ren. I’ll need you there, too.” And she, along with the rewrapped Millicent, was out of the room. The man titled Ren stood there a moment longer, looking lost. Should he go to Hux first or his cat? Should they really talk about it in that moment? Ren made his decision and turned to march out of the in that moment.

  
“I’ll be back.” He threw in over his shoulder as the door shut behind him.

  
When the door shut, Hux finally did cry. Silently. Tears that he’s held back ever since the flowers first appeared and his dad hit him for being proud of them fell over. Tears from hearing from dormmates how excited and happy they were when they finally met their Soul Mates. Tears from believing he wouldn’t find his own. Tears from Millicent. From his job. From the stress. From everything. Tears from relief—

  
“Hux.” Phasma said, a whisper, and he sucked in a breath and looked at her. She didn’t speak anymore. She just brought up an arm over his shoulders, despite how her face turned up in disgust at the feel of warm urine, and pulled him down to the chairs. She didn’t try to offer any words to him. No, just her warm arm and her shoulder for him to lay his head on. In that moment, Hux felt like he didn’t deserve Phasma.

  
“Thank you.” He said and it was the last they spoke for a while.

 

Phasma had left the room only minutes before Ren entered. She had promised Hux she’d be back. She was just going outside to smoke a cigarette and call someone to inform them she’d be home late. Hux swore he had heard the name before during conversations with her, but in that moment, he couldn’t place it. The alcohol had worn off and left Hux rubbing his sore temples as the urine cooled and caused his clothes to cling. He felt exhausted. Sick. Woozy. Emotionally drained.

  
Then he felt a spark of nerves when the door opened and Ren poked his head in which was followed by his large body. He didn’t look anymore damaged since the earlier incident. No, he looked as good as he had when Hux had first entered and he suddenly felt self-aware of how shit he looked. Ren pushed himself in and stood just at the door, not daring to walk closer to the man who was still seated. He cleared his throat then.

  
“Lilies.” He said first. Hux’s eyes bunched together. “Lilies are poisonous to cats. Severely so. It can kill them in a few days. You were just lucky you got her here now. A couple more days and she might not have…” He trailed off and Hux felt his stomach drop at the thought. Then he was relieved and he wanted to hug Ren in that moment.

  
“Thank you.” He whispered, voice light and weak from the force of everything that has happened.

  
“She’ll have to stay a couple days. We have to make sure it’s out of her system, okay?” Hux nodded and brought both hands to his face, rubbing roughly to keep from shedding anymore tears of relief.

  
“God, thank you.” He repeated and continued to rub. He expected Ren to go back to Millicent then. To observe her or do whatever else may need to be done. He didn’t expect Ren to shuffle from one foot to the other and clear his throat again in an attempt at getting Hux’s gaze back onto him. Hux curiously looked up and was taken aback by how nervous the man looked. Or was it awkward? Both would make sense. The man was in a small, confined room with his apparent Soul Mate whose first appearance was unshaved, smelling of piss and alcohol, and crying. It wasn’t a beautiful combo and—  
“Breakfast.” The man stated suddenly, voice booming in the small room with enough force to make Hux jump out of his thoughts. The man’s cheeks colored as Hux looked confused. “I mean. Shit, uh, have breakfast. Have breakfast with me.” Ren looked up at the clock on the wall and so did Hux, taking note of how it had now reached roughly a little past four in the morning. “I can leave. Rey is fine without me. You were the only emergency case we’ve seen. There’s a little café just down the block. I’ll pay—”

  
“No.” Hux said dryly and watched as Ren, who was just starting to dig into his pockets for something, tensed and looked like a kicked puppy for a moment.

  
“Oh.” Ren mumbled. He let his hands come free awkwardly from his pockets and looked away from Hux, obviously intent on now fleeing from the situation, but Hux’s voice stopped him.

  
“I’m covered in piss and vomit. The flowers you’ve so graciously given me still haven’t been treated any. Do you know how hard it is to make sure one of those doesn’t get infected? Your flowers are big and painful.” A flash of guilt in Ren’s eyes made Hux shift away from the topic. “I’ve also had no sleep and have work in a few hours. But, I have nothing planned today for three-O-clock.” It took a moment for the words to sink in, but when they finally did, Ren was grinning almost like a fool. A nervous, little fool that didn’t know whether to hug Hux or shake his hand. He decided on neither and was instead quickly digging back through his pockets for what Hux would discover is a small pad and pen.

  
“I’m Kylo Ren.” He said suddenly, scribbling numbers onto the paper before tearing the slip off and holding it out. “Just, uh, call me when you want to go out, uh….”  
“Hux.”


End file.
